Welcome to the Dollhouse
by SkinnyLittleLesbian
Summary: Written for avalancherun on tumblr, one of the winners of the holiday giveaway. At Henry's request, Emma headed to Boston - the last known location of a willfully missing Regina. What Emma found there was an organization that had wiped Regina's mind.
1. Chapter 1

The flow of people was all at once foreign and familiar; she had walked these streets a million times, but those experiences felt like they happened a lifetime ago rather than five years prior. She had spent too long in Storybrooke, she thought, because she was no longer at home in the ebb and flow of commuters bustling from home to work and back again. Now she was one of the tourists she used to look at so disdainfully, interrupting the tide and blocking passage with her slow pace and wide eyes. She got bumped by other pedestrians a number of times, but she understood their grouchiness and impatience.

She couldn't help but feel that this was a waste of time. Regina had left half a year ago without a word, except for a short, handwritten missive that directed Henry to forgive her, forget her, and move on without her. She hated seeing how broken that had left the kid, but she sort of understood Regina's need to escape. While things in Storybrooke weren't heading towards violence, Regina wasn't the most beloved of all residents. She had answered a number of midnight calls from the brunette to come and chase young hooligans off her property, and she had spent several hours scrubbing spray paint from the sides of Regina's house. There was nothing fun about getting toilet paper out of Regina's trees or mopping eggs off the window.

She wondered if Regina's life was any better out in the real world. The brunette had no real identification, no real work experience, and no connections. Finding a job was probably difficult when a background check would show that she somehow popped into existence thirty years prior in a town nobody had ever heard of in Maine. The curse had done a lot in terms of allowing the town to function, but she doubted it could change the records of the United States government. Her first stop in Boston had been the local homeless shelters, but nobody had seen a sassy brunette with a scathing wit and sharp tongue.

Emma grimaced. She was very used to tracking people down, but this was the coldest trail she'd ever had to work with. All she had to work from was a receipt from several months prior – the only charge on Regina's credit card since she left town. The chances of someone recognizing Regina were slim, so Emma hadn't bothered checking the coffee shop yet. She didn't want to talk to Henry and admit that she was out of options just yet. Rather than concede defeat, she had spent a week wandering the streets of Boston in the hopes that Regina would just magically appear in front of her. That was, after all, how fairytales worked, and she was the offspring of Snow White and Prince Charming. Things were supposed to magically work out for her.

Then again, she was looking for the Evil Queen, for whom nothing was supposed to go well. Emma's good karma and Regina's bad karma likely canceled each other out. Emma sighed and rubbed the back of her neck as she walked. She would do this for the kid, but she was already losing hope. Finding Regina was pretty much impossible; this was the last city they knew she had been in, but that was ages ago. As far as Emma knew, Regina could be anywhere in the world. When her phone buzzed in her pocket, she pulled it out, grateful for an excuse to stop trying if only for a few minutes.

**Emma! Things are okay here, but I miss you! Bring Mom home soon!**

There was no escaping her task, she realized, but she had known that when she had acceded to Henry's demands. He was a persistent kid, and when he wanted something, he knew all the right strings to pull. He had manipulated her into driving him home the first night they met, and his prowess at getting her to do as he wanted was only growing. If he weren't such a good kid, she'd be worried. Because he was a shining example of youthful optimism, she pulled the receipt from her pocket and set off for the coffee shop. Even if nobody recognized Regina's picture, she could at least say she was trying.

0-0-0

_Henry sat at the kitchen table in the empty house that no longer felt like home and stared down at the envelope with his name printed upon it in elegant cursive. She had written his name on a number of items over the years, from lunch bags to his undergarments, but never had seeing his handwriting caused him to feel such sadness. She had written this for him, and now she was gone. The message inside didn't matter. He knew what it would say. He had abandoned her in favor of Emma, and now she was abandoning him. That was fair. He deserved it._

_He set his head on the table top and took several deep breaths. This was what he wanted, he reminded himself. Not only had he fetched Emma from Boston, but he had all but moved in with Emma the first chance he was afforded. He hadn't wanted her around, yet that she was truly gone, he found he wanted her back. There were a number of things for which he had to apologize. He wanted to hug her again and feel her hand rub a small circle on his back._

_Lifting his head off the table, he resolved to open the letter and read its contents. With steady fingers, he broke the seal and pulled three pieces of paper, all covered in her tight cursive. The first page was an apology. She apologized for lying to him for all those years, for putting him into therapy instead of listening to him. She apologized for trying to keep him from Emma and for destroying his castle. The list went on, and every single line made his throat clench a little tighter. He rubbed a fist over his eyes and set the page aside. _

_**When I was young, all I wanted was to love and be loved. My father was free with his affection, but my mother could barely look at me. I grew up with these contrasting images of parenthood and should have known better than to idolize my mother, but my father, for all his caring, could not protect me. When you came into my life, I realized that I had something more valuable than my own life. I couldn't imagine sitting idly by and letting life ravage you.**_

_**So perhaps I was strict. That is one thing for which I will not apologize. I did my best by you, Henry, for better or worse. There comes a time in every parent's life, however, when she must walk away and let her child live for himself. This feels too soon, but I know now that I am not what you need. You need a life unfettered by my past.**_

_**I need you to know that no matter what has occurred between us, I always loved you – from the moment I first held you and onward. I have no knowledge of what my future holds, but you will always be the memory I hold onto tightest, even in the darkest of times.**_

_**Be good for Emma. Stay in school, even if the two idiots wish you to take up sword fighting, or some other archaic form of athleticism. Storybrooke is not the Enchanted Forest, and you need knowledge more than you need a series of scars and a sharp blade. Remember to trust your heart and forgive those who have hurt you. I hope someday you will forgive me.**_

_Henry folded the first two sheets of paper up and tucked them into his pocket. The third was incredibly brief. Her last instructions to him were that he forget her and move on. He wasn't sure that was a possibility, but she had asked it of him, so he'd try. He dried his tears and cleared his throat just in time to hear the front door open and close._

_"Kid, you in here?"_

_"In the kitchen."_

_"Is she not here?"_

_"She's not anywhere in Storybrooke," he reported, lifting the final page for Emma to see. "She left."_

_"Shit, kid…" Emma stood in the entryway to the kitchen and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She was no good with offering comfort, and he became painfully aware of that fact as she continued staring at him and rocking back on her heels. A hug would have been appreciated, he thought, but he didn't ask for one. He'd just have to get used to this style of mothering._

0-0-0

Emma showed the picture around, but, as she suspected earlier, nobody remembered the customers from a day ago, let alone a couple of months before. She ordered a coffee, happy that they had a no frills option along with their varieties of sizes, flavors, and additives, and took a seat near a window. Coffee in hand, she set the picture of Regina in front of her and sighed. It wasn't just for the kid, she thought. This whole adventure was for her, too. Some part of her desperately missed the brunette's dour sense of humor and snappy comebacks. Since Regina left, there was no one left in Storybrooke who didn't fawn at her feet or alternately handle her with kid gloves. She had enough royal lineage to make people love her, but she had a hard time handling her magic and her temper.

Regina used to keep her grounded.

She sipped her coffee and answered her ringing phone. "Hello?"

"Emma, I'm just checking in on you. How are things alone?"

Emma watched a young family through the coffee shop's large glass front window. They looked so happy together, she thought. She didn't think she'd ever have that. "They're going just fine. How's Henry?"

"He's keeping himself busy. Have you-"

"That's great!" Emma feigned enthusiasm. She spoke loudly enough that she could pretend to have not heard the beginning of Snow's question. "And the little tater tot?"

Emma's distraction worked; Snow began a tirade of detailing baby Neal's every step, word, bowel movement, and laugh. Though Emma did care about her little brother, she had very little interest in everything Snow was saying, which meant she had a few minutes to stare down at the picture and think about all the things that had never been or happened.

"Are you okay?"

She must have missed a cue, she realized. She cleared her throat. "Sorry – I'm in a coffee shop, and it just got a bit loud. Say again?"

"I asked if there was anything you wanted me to tell Henry?"

"I can text him back later."

"He doesn't think you're finding much. If you were, he thinks you'd be texting him more."

"I'm sure he'd rather I was looking rather than texting him every time I got a fresh lead."

"That's true, but he's your son, Emma. He needs a bit more than a daily one word text."

"Hold on." Emma stared out the shop window and tried to determine if she were hallucinating, or if Regina was really standing on the opposite side of the street, holding hands with a strange man. She blinked several times, jumped to her feet, and said, "I need to call you back. I think I'm onto something."

Leaving her coffee behind, she scrambled outside only to find the street devoid of her prey. She cursed quietly until she noticed Regina's new male friend standing on the curb with a wide, dreamy grin on his face. Maybe she couldn't catch Regina just yet, but this was so much better than aimlessly wandering the streets. Careful of traffic, she crossed the street and approached him.

"Sir, can I talk to you for a second?"

His face went from blissfully happy to suspicious in a split second. "You a cop?"

"No. I was just wondering about that woman you were just with. I've been looking for her for a while, and I'd really like to track her down."

"Good luck with that," he replied.

He tucked his hands in his pockets and turned to stroll away, so she grabbed his arm. Rolling his eyes, he extended his right hand. Curious but wary, she shook it. As he left her on the curb, she glanced down at her palm. He had left a business card there. There was a name and a number, but nothing else.


	2. Chapter 2

BEFORE. Regina spent the first few days of her self-imposed exile seated on a bench near a bus stop. She was aware that such conduct could be viewed as the behavior of someone up to no good, so she kept her appearance prim. Her grasp on magic outside of Storybrooke was strained and difficult to control, but she managed the little things, like cleansing herself once a day and getting her hair to stay just the way she wanted it to.

She watched the people as they passed and tried to get a better idea of how they interacted with one another. Storybrooke, while part of this reality, wasn't quite the same as other places, or so Regina had gathered thus far. People rarely greeted one another, and there was rarely even an acknowledgement of another's personhood. One man nearly knocked a woman down, and neither reacted.

By the time a police officer came through to shoo her on her way, she had a fairly good idea about how this world worked – those in power acted however they wanted, and those with less power got out of the way or got trampled. In Storybrooke, this would have made her happy; out here, though, she realized that she was one of the weak. She had joined the ranks of the powerless at the bottom of the social hierarchy.

The next few months drifted by in a haze of similar days and listless nights. For the first time in her life, she had no purpose and no direction. More often than not she turned to bottles of wine for answers; she found none, but they allowed her to rest for more than a few minutes at a time. She took shelter in empty rooms at motels because she had very by way of liquid assets – leaving in the middle of the night would do that to you, she thought. She ought to have prepared more for her new life, but she hadn't been thinking about the details.

She avoided people as best she could, save for the few interactions she had to endure – the man at the liquor store knew her face and also knew she wasn't partial to small talk. This was the one interaction that didn't cause anxiety to swell in her belly. She knew he could be trusted to simply conduct the transaction. Thankfully the nearby grocery stores had self-checkout lanes, where she didn't have to exchange pleasantries and make eye contact with a gangly teenager pretending to smile.

Eventually, though, a maid spotted her leaving a room that should have been empty, and she was forced to move on. The nights she spent in the park were full of misery, but she was running out of options. She couldn't return to Storybrooke – not like that, with her tail between her legs. The choice was between an old hell or a new one, and at least nobody here knew her past misdeeds. She might be sleeping under a tree, but she wasn't getting verbally berated and threatened.

When she entered the coffee shop that produced the receipt in Emma's pocket, she had exhausted the last of her funds. No matter how much magic she could control out here, she couldn't quite make a cup of coffee that tasted right; the food, too, was a poor substitute for real nutrition. If nobody had come looking for her yet, she figured, then it was likely that nobody was looking. Using her credit card once would be innocuous – or, at least, that's what she told herself in order to justify the purchase of a small black coffee and a bran muffin. When the food hit her lips, she no longer cared if someone discovered her. The time elapsed from that moment and her last real meal had been too great.

She sat by the window and watched families roam the streets. As she sipped her steaming beverage, she wondered what her life would have been like if she had been born into this world – perhaps then her mother would have been satisfied with who she was, rather than cloying for power. Then again, with no monarchy here, Cora would have probably sought this world's power instead. Locations changed, but people didn't.

She had thought coming to Boston would be a fresh start, but she was beginning to realize that her abrupt move was more of a suicidal trip rather than anything else. She had no way to support herself, and she was very tired of being alone. She'd even settle for one of Ms. Swan's badly executed responses to her wit. Their repartee, while somewhat confrontational, was exactly what she wanted. She finished her drink with the sad knowledge that she'd never have that, or Henry, ever again. As she stood, a man set his hand on her arm.

"I've been watching you. Well, that sounds – creepy. Let me try again, would you care to join me for a moment? You seem hungry, and I'd be glad to buy you an actual meal."

"No. I'm fine. Thank you." Regina pulled out of his grip and contemplated if she could outrun him if need be. "Good day-"

"I truly didn't mean to startle you." He extended his hand. "I'm Christopher – Topher. I think I may be able to assist you."

She warily shook his hand and then backed up a step. "I really must go."

"You need a job, don't you?"

Though he was right, she didn't feel like revealing her details to a stranger. "I am gainfully employed, thank you."

"Then maybe I misread the situation." His tone implied that he thought no such thing. "One meal, Ms…?"

"Mills."

"One meal, Ms. Mills, and I promise you'll be glad we spoke."

"You may say your piece right here."

"Can I get you another coffee?"

She folded her arms over her chest. "Speak now, or I'm leaving."

"The Constitution protects a person's right to the pursuit of happiness, did you know that?" He guided her to his table in the back. "So I have to ask you – what's yours? Your happiness, I mean?"

She thought of Henry and frowned. "I have none."

"Right." He dug into his pocket and slid a card across the table. "But how would you like some?"

There was no real magic out here, she thought. He was offering nothing but smoke and mirrors – she ought to leave, yet she remained in place, staring at the card in front of her. After a moment, she reached down, picked the card up, and brought it closer to her face. She read it several times before returning her gaze to his face.

"Dollhouse?"

"What I have to offer is simple: The promise of a happy ending."

"And what is the cost?"

"The Dollhouse is an organization devoted to wish fulfillment. We are always looking for new people to help us fulfill our mission. In exchange for five years of loyal service, you'll be discharged with enough money to live comfortably, and whatever constitutes your happiness."

"You cannot provide what brings me happiness."

"You'd be surprised."

"And if my happiness means forgetting?"

He flipped the card over and gestured to the address on the back. "There's a lot more to this than I can say here. If you're interested, come see me, and we'll get a contract worked out."

He threw a few bills onto the table, stood with a knowing smile, and walked away, all while she sat and stared dumbly at the card. He had nothing to offer her, she tried to convince herself. There was no way any man or woman could make her forget the pain of her existence, or the knowledge of her failures. Rather than throw the card away, she tucked it into her pocket and walked calmly out onto the street. She would hold onto it, simply to have the option open, but she wouldn't act upon it.

A few days later, however, she found herself walking into a building without a name. The main lobby was full of smiling people focused on doing yoga, and other smiling people walking about without a care in the world. She envied how light their spirits must be. A woman with a clipboard directed her to a small office, where the blonde man from the coffee shop awaited her. His knowing smile hadn't disappeared.

"I had a feeling I'd be seeing you again."

0-0-0

Emma sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She'd done a number of online searches, but there was no website associated with this so-called Dollhouse company. If it was real, it certainly didn't rely on advertising to make its money. Her experience had taught her that places like this were likely more trouble than they were worth – but this was her only lead. She had to follow up on it because she needed to have something to tell Henry. Even if nothing came of the phone call, she'd be able to tell him that she was working hard and tracking down leads. He was beginning to lose hope, and she didn't enjoy hearing the sadness in his voice.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and punched the numbers in. If this was a legitimate business, then she'd have her answers sooner rather than later. If it wasn't… She sighed again. In any event, doing something felt good, and when a chipper female voice answered, she began the conversation with confidence.

"Is this Dollhouse?"

"Yes, of course. How may I direct your call?"

Emma licked her lips. "I'm looking for…" She trailed off. Her instinct told her that something wasn't right, despite the cheery answering service. Listening to her gut would mean doing things the sneaky way.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for a job."

"As a doll or in security?"

"Security." Emma's lips quirked sideways. She didn't know what a doll was, but she knew she could crack heads if she needed to. "I've got a pretty extensive history in-"

"Please hold."

While she listened to the horrible music that blasted through the phone, Emma flipped the card between her fingers. This would be awful, she thought, if she were doing all of this, and Regina wasn't even there.

"State your business."

This man's voice was in stark contrast to the receptionist, but Emma pushed forward anyway. "My name is Emma Swan. I was told you were looking for security personnel. I have excellent references and a history of working with local law enforcement. My most recent job was as the sheriff of a small town up in Maine."

"Save it. Before we talk jobs, I need your information to run a background check. If you come up clear, then we'll talk."

She gave him the information he wanted with nary a word edgewise. All attempts at conversation were ignored, so she stopped trying. He would be more impressed, she decided, if she were more militant, so she gave short, precise answers. His tone at the end of the call was no more cordial than the start, but he promised to do the check and return her call as soon as possible.

She tossed the business card down and leaned back. This was probably a wild goose chase – but it was something other than wandering the streets of Boston. She was sick of doing that, and this at least gave her the stirrings of hope in her chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma straightened her clothing and frowned with irritation as the new shirt caused her skin to itch. She hadn't packed for an interview, so she had gone shopping the day before for something suitable – but she also didn't have time to properly clean the garments. Still, she looked rather slick and didn't want to complain. This would all be worth it, she thought, if this got her one step closer to her quarry.

She walked up to the building at the address she had been given. The front was a sheer, gray surface with nothing to designate it as a company; even the glass front doors were devoid of designation. Hoping she was in the right place, she entered and approached the front desk where a young woman was typing fervently at a computer. She leaned against the counter and smiled.

"I really don't know if I'm in the right spot – I'm here to interview for-"

"Down that hallway." The receptionist pointed to the right. "Second door on the right. They will need you to go through a metal detector on your way in and be prepared for a physical check of your belongings. Make sure you have your state issued identification readily available."

Emma dug into her pocket as she walked. This place was such a mystery, she mused as she tugged her wallet out. After removing her driver's license from inside, she shoved it back away and fiddled with the license as she walked. A cursory glance around the lobby revealed several blank-faced women performing various tasks. The smiles they wore gave Emma a chill, but she masked her expression with the ease of years of practice and continued on her way. If Regina was here, she needed to rescue the other woman posthaste – and hopefully no permanent damage had befallen the other woman.

She entered the room, where she was roughly guided through the procedures outlined by the woman out front. She thought the two men helping her were a bit too brusque, but she wasn't about to complain. By the time she took a seat in front of a sharp-eyed woman who glared at her from behind wire-framed glasses she almost felt a bit violated.

"I hope our procedures haven't unsettled you."

Emma lifted her head and tried to look unflustered. "I understand the need for security."

"Do you?"

"Well, in general, yes-

"Very well. Let's continue, shall we?" The woman glanced down at her clipboard; Emma cleared her throat and asked for the woman's name. "For the purposes of this interview, you may call me Ms."

"Ms.," Emma repeated. "Okay – so-"

"I'm asking the questions."

So much for gathering perfunctory information, she thought. She sighed, settled back, and answered every invasive question as concisely and clearly as she could. Mixed in with the typical interview questions, which she had heard a million times before, were several questions that nearly confused her.

"Are you able to guard a person without forming a personal attachment?"

"Ah – yes? I think. My guarding in the past has been more general, but I have been in situations that required me to do my duty even though those I care about were in danger. There was a time when-"

"Thank you." Ms. scratched a note on her clipboard. "And how long have you been working for the police department?"

"Four years."

"Why are you seeking other employment?"

"I work closely with family up north, and I thought it was time for a change. You mentioned attachment earlier – well, I'm ready to detach."

The interview continued in much the same fashion until Ms. finally asked if Emma had any questions of her own. There was too much to ask in one sitting, but Emma realized she ought to limit the scope of her inquiry for the time being. "What exactly would my duties be?"

"The position for which we are currently hiring is the personal guard for one of our dolls. The employee will attend to the doll's needs as she completes her jobs – duties will range depending upon the situation. We are looking for someone flexible, dependable, and able."

"What benefits come with the position?" Emma tried to sound like any other person attempting to land a job, but her curiosity was raging. She leaned forward, interested in what Ms. was writing on her clipboard, but the stoic woman tilted out of the way and blocked Emma's view. Emma sighed and ran her hands along her thighs in an attempt to look nonchalant.

"You'll receive a bimonthly paycheck with insurance benefits. In addition, those on security detail are offered an employee discount if doll services are ever desired. The job is fifty hours a week, though you may be required to work odd hours."

"What do dolls do?"

"Whatever is requested. Are you quite done?"

Not at all, Emma thought, but she nodded curtly. "Thank you for your time, Ms."

"We will be in touch if you are deemed to be fit for the position. You may see yourself out."

Emma rose, extended her hand, and then backed away when Ms. merely stared her down. She offered a smile before exiting and heading back toward the main lobby. This time, she gave the room a more thorough look over, just in case she wasn't invited back. Women milled about, but none looked familiar – none until Regina entered the room and joined the woman doing yoga. Her eyes fell on Emma, and for a moment, Emma's heart leapt. She swallowed hard and thought about raising her hand.

Regina's eyes, though, registered no recognition. She simply eased into the pose her fellows were currently holding. Emma clenched her hand into a fist and resisted the urge to rush over. Her best bet at the moment was to wait for the phone call and hope that they hired her. That would get her closer, and she could then see about what rescue measures would be appropriate, if any. Maybe, she thought, this was what Regina wanted.

0-0-0

She flopped onto the bed in her hotel room and let out a gust of air. Following her instincts had yielded results, but she wasn't sure what she was going to tell Henry. He wouldn't understand that she had seen Regina and done nothing – he would want to know why she had walked away instead of grabbing Regina and running. If she were honest with herself, she was also wondering why she had chosen to leave Regina there.

The reason, she determined, was the emptiness in Regina's eyes. Had there been any sign that Regina knew who she was, she could have attempted a conversation – but instead, Regina had dark pits for eyes, like a great white shark's or a doll's. Emma ran a hand through her hair and sat upright. She fumbled for her phone, deciding that putting off the inevitable wasn't going to make it any easier. She never knew what to say to people, but somehow the right stuff tended to pop out.

The phone rang so long that she was almost sure she'd get voicemail; the tongue-tied idiot in her hoped desperately for this outcome, as spitting out a short 'I've got a lead, kid, but I'm not sure yet where I'm going' was a lot easier than fielding questions, admitting ignorance, and apologizing for not having more to report. When he answered, she tried to fend off the disappointment.

"Emma, hey."

"How're you doing, kid?"

"I'm okay." He hesitated and then added, "I miss you."

She cringed; she had been enjoying her freedom from family and responsibility, but he was likely feeling alone. She so often forgot that she had someone so dependent upon her. In the past she had promised herself that she would be better to him, but nothing ever came of those empty words muttered in the middle of the night.

"Yes, me, too."

If he sensed how insincere her words were, he didn't seem to care. "David was teaching me some sword fighting techniques. I know he was just a shepherd before her married Snow, but he's got some good moves. He says hi, by the way."

"Tell him hi back for me."

Henry shouted her greeting over his shoulder, muting the sound for Emma who took a moment to try and parse together some words about her progress. He was distracted – that was good, she thought, because he might not dig too deep into what she was doing.

"So what have you found?"

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Well, I think I have a lead – nothing certain, mind you, but I have a direction at the moment."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He waited a moment for her to elaborate without his prodding and then asked, "Well?"

"Well, I got a tip that she might be working for a company down here. I checked it out today, and the lead seems solid."

"But you didn't find her yet?" His voice lowered in both tone and volume. "You have to find her, Emma. You have to bring her home."

"What if I can't?" The question popped out before she could stop it. Now that it had been said, though, a torrent of self-doubt spewed out. "Am I that bad a mom that you need her back? Kid, chances are slim that if I find her, she'll even want to come home. You don't leave in the middle of the night just so that someone can say 'Hey, come back please' and change your mind."

He sat in silence for a few minutes – she'd wonder if he hung up except for quiet sound of breathing. She knew pretty immediately that she shouldn't have dumped her anxieties onto him – she was, after all, the parent and he the child, so she should listen to his fears, not burden him with hers. Still, he was the one who wanted Regina home most, and he was the one who would suffer most when she failed.

"You'll bring her home," he eventually replied. "Somehow. You're the savior, and she's part of my happy ending. Didn't you say you were gonna make sure everyone in Storybrooke got theirs? You wouldn't let me down like that."

She had been hoping for absolution, or some statement along the lines of 'It's okay, Emma. If you can't get her to come home, I'll still love you and be happy,' but his response just reapplied the pressure. Rather than let her off the hook, he made Regina's return of the utmost import. She swallowed roughly and switched the phone to her other ear.

"I'm going to do my best, don't get me wrong. I just… I'm not so sure she'll be happy to see me."

"Maybe not. But you're pretty persuasive, Ma."

She flinched at the title and was glad he couldn't see her. If for no other reason than she didn't feel adequate as a parent, she was going to have to convince Regina to come home. Henry needed Regina, and she was figuring out that she did, too. She nodded and sighed.

"I'll give it my best try, kid, and I'll keep you updated, okay?"

"I…" He trailed off. Before she could prompt him to finish, he started a completely different sentence. "David is waving his sword around pretty wildly – I better go back to practicing with him so he doesn't hurt anybody. Talk to you soon, okay?"

"Okay."

"Love you."

"You, too."

She tossed the phone aside, let out an exasperated grunt, and pawed at her forehead. The kid knew how to twist her emotional arm behind her back and force her where he wanted her to be. He was definitely Regina's kid, which was reason enough to keep moving forward with her current plan. Hopefully she'd land the job and figure out a way to get into contact with the other woman, no matter how blank-faced Regina seemed. Regina might not have seen her, she reasoned, so she'd just have to get back there and try again.


	4. Chapter 4

"Welcome to Boston's Dollhouse."

Her tour guide was a smiling brunette who walked backwards with arms spread. The other woman's expression looked practiced, Emma noticed, and hardly genuine. The nametag on her chest read BETTY, general manager, but she had told Emma to call her B. This was another forced nicety that made Emma want to roll her eyes.

"Thanks. So when do I-"

"I am to give you a tour of the facilities, but I have not been instructed to answer your questions. You'll have to wait."

Emma grunted and followed Betty around the building. She kept her eyes peeled for Regina, but she never managed to sight the surly, missing woman. Instead she tried to keep track of how many different people were milling about. All of them were attractive, but none were particularly memorable. This place sure had a lot mysteries, she mused.

"Here is where I leave you." Betty gestured to a broad door behind her. "Once you enter this room, your duties will begin."

"Yeah, but nobody really told me what those are yet?"

Betty shrugged and walked away. Emma straightened her uniform, lifted her chin, and let out a deep sigh. She approached the door and, when it had slid open, stepped into the room beyond. Computers buzzed and beeped around her, but her attention was entirely focused on the slim woman lying on a table in the middle of the room. The blonde had blank eyes and a wide smile. Emma swallowed hard.

"Ah!" A thin, whippy man waved his hand to gain her attention. "You must be Swan!"

"Emma, yes." Emma stretched her hand out to greet him, but he had already turned to the girl on the table. Emma stepped closer curiously and asked, "So, uh, who's this?"

"This is your new charge, Brooke." He trailed his fingers down her cheek, a move which Emma found unsettling – but the girl simply smiled wider and giggled. "I'll need you to hold her hand."

"I still don't really know what this is about. Nobody's answered any questions. All I know is that I'm supposed to guard her –"

He sighed and leaned against the nearest row of machines. "Here's the quick rundown, Swan. These girls, these dolls, they're blank slates. They're pads of fresh college-lined notebooks. They're fields of freshly fallen snow. Get it?"

"Not really." Emma eyed him closely. "They're people, not these inanimate objects you're listing."

He rubbed a hand along the computer. "Sure, they're people. They're just people onto whom we can download information. Say you know a guy who loves rock climbing, but he just can't find that right girl to go rock climbing with. A call to us, and we can find a girl who fits his type, teach her to climb, and rent her company out by the hour."

"So this is prostitution-"

He waved a hand. "Some people are looking for sex, but there are cheaper alternatives. No, what we provide here is an experience, not a few hours in a cheap motel."

"What sort of experience?"

"Absolutely anything – short, of course, of hurting one of our dolls. There have been a few… unfortunate occurrences in the past, but we've dealt with them. We have a pretty good screening process that weeds out most of the weirdos. Haven't you ever wanted to show up somewhere with someone who'll impress your friends? Or maybe you've dreamed about the perfect outing – but all you're missing is the perfect person to go with you? Or maybe you just need something special, like someone to negotiate with a kidnapper without getting the police involved.

"We are not some brothel, Swan, though there's nothing wrong with those. We are Dollhouse, and we provide so much more than you might expect."

Emma stood silently for a moment and then cleared her throat. "So my job is to watch after her as she goes out with these Johns?"

"Eh, drop the prostitution analogy, but otherwise I think you've got it."

"So what's going on now?"

"As I said, our dolls are clean and fresh and ready for new things. When they first come in, we wipe them clean of their personality. They agree, mind you, and we'd never force the procedure on anyone-"

"I'm not here as moral judgment," she interrupted, "so stop covering your ass and tell me what happens."

His lips twitched. "Once they're clean, we're good to go in and put in whatever personality we need for any given task. Upon completion of a job, we wipe them again. They don't remember who they were, or where they've been. The thing is, we need someone there to take them home when a job is complete. We need someone they always recognize to keep them safe and at ease. It's about trust, Swan. Brooke here will always trust you, and that's ultimately for her protection and safety."

Emma tentatively took Brooke's hand. "She's okay with this?"

"Oh, yes," Brooke replied. "You look very friendly. Very nice."

As Brooke tittered, Emma turned to look at the man. "How does it work?"

"The wiping?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I won't bore you with the science mumbo-jumbo, but they just forget everything they were."

"They don't remember anything?" The hope that had been residing in her belly began to curl in on itself and die. "Nobody they knew? Nothing like that?"

"We've had a few… odd cases in the past. Actives who suddenly start acting a bit like a past personality, but it's nothing that a thorough inspection and subsequent wipe won't fix."

So, Emma thought, maybe she could remind Regina, if Regina truly was one of the active dolls here. "And what are we doing right now?"

"I have to make some minor tweaks in her mind. The handler-active imprint requires direct line of sight, so I need you to look her in the eye and read this."

She accepted a piece of paper from him and scanned it. Though she thought this whole thing was ethically ambiguous, she needed to get closer to Regina. She wrinkled her nose and said, "Everything's going to be alright."

"Now that you're here," Brooke replied. There was a tenor of something small and frightened in her voice, which was the first sign of humanity the girl had exhibited. There was a scant few seconds when Emma considered stopping the whole thing – but if not her, then there would be someone else holding this girl's hand.

"Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

Emma dropped Brooke's hand as soon as she was given permission. This girl needed protection, she convinced herself, because whatever process was used had likely stripped away any and all survival instincts. If this was what had become of Regina, then she hoped Regina's handler was as devoted to her well-being as she was to Brooke's.

"You'll get a call when she's going out. In the meantime, you'll need to look over the handbook of policies and procedures. If you have any questions, don't ask me." He smiled sardonically and gestured to the door. Emma nodded and headed out.

0-0-0

Now that she had a name badge, nobody bothered her as she roamed the building. There were definitely rooms into which she was not allowed. Doors were locked, and dirty looks were sent her way when she got too curious – so she did her best to respect boundaries for the time being. She was a new hire, and she didn't want to attract the wrong sort of attention. Whenever she had free time, she was going to search for Regina, she resolved.

She moved from area to area and watched the dolls interact. Blank slates was certainly the right term, she thought. They were empty-headed creatures who spoke with one another, turned away, and said nearly identical sentiments to whosoever wandered along next. Their topics ranged from how to be better to how nice lunch had been, though nobody could quite remember what lunch had actually been.

After half an hour of aimlessly drifting about, Emma spotted Regina seated at a small table with two other dolls. Each had a plate of salad before her, and they were chatting with each other in muted tones. Regina looked – Emma cast her gaze away to get a grip on her emotions before glancing back – Regina looked happy. There was no weight on this woman's shoulders, no frown tugging at the corner of her lips.

Maybe she shouldn't interfere. Emma leaned against a wall and kept her eyes trained on Regina's light-hearted conversation. She had never seen Regina so pleased. Once their meal was done, Emma gathered her courage and walked over. She smiled at Regina, who smiled blankly back.

"Hello," Regina greeted. "Can we help you?"

"I was just curious what your name was."

"Echo."

"That's very pretty."

"Thank you." Regina's voice was as flat as her demeanor. She stood when her fellows did and walked away without another word.

0-0-0

Emma fiddled with her pen and stared down at the few notes she had jotted – the top of the page was titled All About Regina Mills, and its content was a list of all the characteristics and traits she could think of to describe the other woman. From what she had learned, there was a slim chance that Regina could be reminded of her past. All Emma had to do was construct the right personality, and hope that luck was on their side.

Again, though, karma was a bit of a bitch, so Emma did her best to temper her hope with her cynical realism. This was a long shot, at best. On top of her doubts about her success rate, she was also starting to doubt if Regina wanted to be rescued. The dolls weren't there through duress or force; whatever had led Regina to signing that contract, it must have been Regina's own desire. Trying to decide what was best for the other woman was uncomfortable, and Emma hated the exercise.

She wished she knew more about why Regina had left Storybrooke to begin with. The note Henry had was brief and not very informational, so Emma's best guess was that the teenaged, snot-nosed brats had all but chased Regina out of town. Maybe if she'd been more vigilant, or if she'd exacted a more damaging punishment, they'd have stopped what they were doing. Maybe, she thought. Pondering the what-ifs of the situation was pointless.

The fact was that Regina was an active doll, and Emma could either attempt a rescue, or sit idly by and wait.

Emma set her pen down. According to the information in her handbook, dolls were active for a standard five years. That was too long to be away from Henry, but maybe she could bring him with her to Boston. She could work for Dollhouse until Regina's contract was up, and then she and Henry could approach her. That wasn't what Henry wanted, though, and she didn't want to wait that long, either. If she was going to get through to Regina, she was going to act quickly – she was a doer, not a waiter, and she was feeling a little helpless with the way things were going.

She firmed her resolve. She was going to hire Regina, if she could, and see what she could coax out of the other woman. The first word on her list was stern mother. She decided on a cover story, called work, and crossed her fingers. Thankfully, those in charge of setting up were used to requests for specific dolls, especially from employees. She barely had to mutter Regina's doll-name before she was harried for further details about what she wanted. She spat out a number of traits, unsure of what the protocol was. The woman was curt but polite in guiding her through the process, and by the time they ended the call, Emma was exhausted.

Please, she thought, let this all be worth it. She had a date on the following Tuesday with a woman who would help her take care of her two year old nephew. Now all she needed was to borrow her brother.


	5. Chapter 5

As she prepared to meet Regina at the park, Emma listened to Henry's excited babbling. According to him, she was incredibly close to finishing her quest – finding Regina meant that she was moments away from returning home no matter how many times she explained to him that things were more complex than he knew. She found Regina, yes, but she couldn't yet reach Regina. That, in his opinion, was a minor detail. She foresaw several months of effort ahead; he saw a couple of days, a week tops.

"Will you tell her I miss her?"

"Kid, she doesn't necessarily – like I told you – she's, well, she doesn't remember," Emma said, stuttering along. She didn't want to tell him the entirety of what was happening, as she didn't think he could handle the truth. Despite the scientist's words to the contrary, she still felt like Dollhouse was prostitution for the very rich or very desperate.

"So, you just need to break the curse, right?"

"This isn't… Maybe?" Emma cleared her throat. "Even if that were the way to fix things, we don't have anyone who could deliver True Love's Kiss. And I'm not exactly an expert on curses."

"Do you want me to talk to Mr. Gold?"

"Oh, gosh no." Emma straightened her shirt before turning to Neal, who was sucking on his thumb and slumbering. She brushed his hair from his forehead, which woke him up. To keep him from crying, she hoisted him into her arms and rocked him to and fro. Once he was settled, she hefted the bag of his supplies onto her shoulder and headed for the door. "We don't need to owe him anything, okay?"

"Okay…"

"Look, kid, I'm heading off to start-"

"Operation Elephant."

"Elephant?"

"Because of her memory." She could practically hear the beam in his voice. "An elephant never forgets, and my mom hasn't either. I just know it."

Emma wished she were half as certain. She walked down the street toward the park with the phone trapped between her ear and her shoulder. He continued chattering on about how well things were going, and she allowed him to do so until she entered the park. Though he was mid-sentence, she said, "Kid, listen, I just got to where I was going. We'll have to finish this conversation later, okay?"

"Oh, okay… I love you."

"You, too."

"Oh, one last thing. Snow wants to talk to you."

"She already told me everything I needed to know when I picked Neal up Sunday night."

"She just wants to say hi."

Emma plopped down on a bench to wait and sighed, "Okay, put her on."

She heard jostling and muted chatter before Snow's voice rang out, "How's he doing?"

Emma bounced Neal on her knee. "He's fine. Just like the last five times you called, Snow."

"I'm just worried. Why can't I be there with you?"

"Just like I told you the last five times you called, I can't have too many variables at play here. This mission requires precision and control, and I can't keep track of Neal, you, and everything else all at once," Emma lied. Calling what she was doing a mission was definitely a stretch of her imagination, but she needed to sound confident. At any sign of weakness, Snow would attempt to take over.

"I know… It's just hard being separated from him."

Emma wondered if Snow had ever felt this badly about sending her infant daughter through a portal. Rather than ask, though, she brushed the issue aside and said, "I'll let you know how things are going, okay? But it's just about go-time, so I need to hang up and finish preparations."

"Okay. But can I speak with him for a second?"

Emma rolled her eyes and held the phone to his ear. He giggled happily as his mother rained praises down unto him and subsequently nearly burst into tears when Emma ended the call. She tweaked his nose and kissed his forehead, which was enough to bring the smile back to his chubby cheeks.

"Em-ma! No!"

"Kid, you're about to meet someone really important, okay?" Emma let him grab her pointer finger and groaned as he jammed the tip into his mouth. "So I need you to be the best kid ever, okay? But then, you also have to be a little bad. She's going to help me learn how to take care of you."

"Bad!" He spat her finger out and grinned with enough mischief that Emma began to worry that she had made the wrong request. She ought to have just left him alone – he'd have no doubt begun to start trouble all on his own.

"Emma?"

Emma's head snapped up and looked around the fairly empty park. She wasn't used to that voice using her first name, let alone greeting her with that much pleasure. She lifted a hand as Regina approached. "It's nice to see you, Re- Amy!"

"So is this your little nephew?"

"This is Neal." Emma lifted him up, and he started to squall. Regina took a seat beside her on the park bench and eased the toddler from her hands. Neal looked suspiciously at her until she dangled her fingers in front of his face and wiggled them. He grabbed at them, chortling all the while. "You're good with him."

"I had a son many years ago."

"What happened?"

Regina offered her a sad smile. Her shoulders tensed, raising up until they were nearly level with her earlobes. "There was an accident. He went on, as he called them, an adventure, but he didn't tell me. I found a note later saying that he was going off to find his father in New York. A car was driving too quickly down the road when he ran out. I… I'm sure you can guess the rest."

Emma winced. She hadn't included those details in her request, so either the personality Regina had been given had similar origins, or some part of Regina was still there. She wasn't sure which, though, so she kept her excitement to a minimum. She was going to use this meeting as a small test – she'd check in with 'Echo' back at Dollhouse and see if any personality traits had remained. If they had, then she'd repeat this test. If they hadn't… She didn't want to think about that possibility. Staying positive was all she could manage at that particular moment.

"They're cute when they're this small, huh?" She changed topics as deftly as she could and felt relief filter through her as Regina's posture relaxed.

"I prefer when they're just a bit older." Her lips quivered, but she continued on. "Don't get me wrong, Neal, but in a few years, when you're nine or so, you'll have a mind all your own."

Neal blew a spit bubble at her. Emma snorted and reached into her baby bag; she tugged a washcloth out and handed it to Regina, who wiped the spittle from her cheek before booping the tip of Neal's nose with a fingertip. Emma wondered if Regina had been this patient with Henry. She didn't know much about his childhood, other than his skewed perceptions of his later years when everything Regina did was horrible and proof that she was the Evil Queen.

"Thanks for coming out to help me. It's the first time I've had to watch him alone. I was just so out of my element." Emma accepted the cloth again and tossed it into the pocket designated for dirty things. Thankfully, he had recently graduated from diapers to big boy undies, and he hadn't soiled them yet. There was another pair with the Superman symbol across the front, but she really didn't want to deal with urine or feces. He was her brother, not her kid, and she didn't want to touch that sort of stuff. That was, she thought, the only benefit of someone else raising Henry. She got to skip the gross stuff, even if it meant missing out on the good stuff as well.

Regina cuddled Neal to her chest and closed her eyes. "I was glad to come out. Working as a nanny is difficult but rewarding. There is nothing more precious than children."

"Hm." Emma turned her head to watch a small blonde girl slip down the slide. She frowned as she began to realize that this just wasn't Regina. This was someone with the same tenderness that Regina had toward Henry, but this wasn't Regina. "I guess…"

Neal soon began to snore, and when Emma glanced back, Regina's fingers were curled tightly into his tiny blue t-shirt. From what Emma had seen in photograph albums, Neal looked somewhat like Henry had at that age, so now she felt as though she were glimpsing the past.

"He's a good boy," Regina demurred. She hugged Neal closer and smiled. The expression was so entirely peaceful that Emma wasn't sure that this person before her had ever been the Regina she knew back in Storybrooke.

"And you're good with him."

"I'm a nanny," Regina replied. "That's what I'm paid to be each and every day."

"Really?" Emma drew in a short breath before asking, "So, never wanted to do anything else?"

"What do you mean?"

"You never wanted to, say, get into politics? It's been childcare since day one?"

"Yes."

"See, I think you'd make a good ruler of some sort."

"What?"

Emma flushed. "Like a mayor or something."

Regina looked at her with no recognition. "No, I can't say the thought has ever crossed my mind. I'm quite comfortable and happy working with children. This career is the one I find most rewarding."

"Oh." Emma rubbed Neal' back to give herself something to do with her hands. "I'm glad you're happy doing it."

"Did you have any specific questions?" Regina flushed as their hands brushed. Emma noted this with a small amount of confusion. "About taking care of Neal, I mean."

"Oh. I'm struggling to get him to eat his food. He really doesn't like peas."

Regina chuckled, and Emma felt her stomach heating pleasantly. This definitely wasn't Regina, she thought, though this person wasn't entirely awful to be around.

"Have you tried-"

"I've tried everything." Emma tried to regain control over the situation. She couldn't pay attention to her feelings for this not-Regina person; she had to remain focused on getting the real-Regina back. "Maybe you'd like to try?"

"I'll do my best."

Emma went into her pack once more and found his afternoon snack. Regina pried the lid off, removed three Cheerios, and roused Neal with a soothing hum. Neal yawned, stretching his grubby fists over his head and then slamming them down against Regina. He had no real power, so this did no real damage, and Regina booped his nose once more.

"Hey, baby," she cooed. "Can you open your big boy mouth?"

His lips remained sealed, so Regina tickled under his chin. Neal let out a guttural laugh. When his mouth was open, Regina popped the Cheerios in. Emma nodded, impressed with how well Regina handled the handful that was her brother.

"Dang. I've begged, pleaded, talked, cajoled, and ordered, and he never listens to me. One of my friends even suggested I, uh, bite his ear to establish dominance." Emma blushed and shook her head. "I didn't listen to her, but I was getting a little desperate."

"My son used to be a picky eater as well."

"Yeah?"

"He would eat most sweet things, but put something green on his plate, and his appetite supposedly disappeared. You learn tricks to make sure their diets remain balanced, especially when they're so small. Nutrition is everything."

"You must have been a great parent." Emma knew how true that statement was but kept herself from spewing out more of what she knew. Trying once more to discern if there was any Regina in this woman, she asked, "What was the name of your son?"

Regina nuzzled Neal and replied, "Henry."


End file.
